


When Rich Met Poor

by babycakes



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, M/M, fucking ziall guys, metions of abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-11-02
Packaged: 2017-12-03 10:41:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/697392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babycakes/pseuds/babycakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn is a artist who gets by because his father is well known. Niall is a prostitute trying to get by selling himself to pay for college.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

''Alright class, you will be focusing on his toned muscles and how they contract when he moves, as well as his defined jaw line and how his abs are much like a solid rock, got it? Ok BEGIN!'' Ms. Strizer said as she watched the students pick up their pencils and pastels to draw the nude man before them.

The best artist was Zayn Malik, who goes to Bradford School for Advanced Artists. His dad helped him get in, considering his dad draws too. He is well known and respected, so it was easy for the school to accept Zayn.

He was always on time to class and was very respectful but not a pushover either. He stood up for what he believed in. He’s 19 and has his whole life still ahead of him. Even at such an age, he does want to be an artist like his father.

Zayn’s old enough to own a car, he’s got his license, and his dad can afford one but he refuses, says it adds to the spoiled rich kid vibe he’s got going on. He’s not spoiled; he doesn't even ask for much and he’s dam grateful for what he has.

Sometimes he thinks his father has the wrong outlook on life and tries to help him, but can’t. His dad is an adult and won’t listen to a thing his son says because he doesn't want to hear that he’s not doing this and not doing that right. He has his own beliefs and routines and Zayn has never agreed with them and yes, he realizes that still living with his dad at almost 20 years old is ridiculous but his dad pretty much takes care of everything for him. He does have a part time job; his dad thinks it’s silly since he has enough money to buy the country, but Zayn wants to have a sense of responsibility. His father cares nothing for responsibility and never taught him a thing about it so Zayn has to try and teach himself.

The bell rings, signaling class is over. Zayn is packing up and getting ready to leave when Ms. Strizer stops him.

''Zayn love, come here a second. I would like to talk to you about something.''

As Zayn put his things down beside his stool and made his way over to Ms. Strizer nervously, he wondered what she wanted to talk about. He was never disrespectful to her nor was he a class clown. All in all Zayn was a pretty decent student and quite enjoyable to have in class. His art work was something to always marvel at it, seeing as it is the most beautiful thing to have ever existed. Ms. Strizer told him the first day that he drew almost as good as his dad, making Zayn all the more confident about his artwork, even though he always felt he was missing something when he drew.

''Yes Ms. Strizer?'' he asked.

''Your artwork is marvelous, as usual, but I noticed that you’re having a bit of a hard time with your left hand. Is everything alright love?''.

Zayn has never told anyone that when he was younger, his mom would beat him. Of course his dad knew but never spoke a word of her or the incidents after they got divorced. 

The last time she beat Zayn, she had hit him in the head, causing him to have brain trauma. He fell into a coma for 3 months and thankfully came out, but not all was well. His left hand, which he called his gimp hand, was not completely broken but something was still wrong. When he tried to draw his hand shook. It hadn't happened since he was 15 but he feared that the tremors are coming back.

The thing is, if they do, he'll never be able to draw again and he'll have to withdraw from Bradford School for Advanced Artists. He'd be devastated. His life was based on him being an artist. Zayn felt like nothing without it and he feared that if he didn't draw, he would become a nobody.

He wanted to be somebody people remembered. 

''Um yeah, I'm fine Ms. Strizer. I'm fine, see you tomorrow.'' Zayn said, trying to avoid the topic. Walking back to his stool, he picked up his bags. Waving and giving her a half smile, Zayn walked out of the room and down the hallway to go home.

Walking down, he noticed the boy he’s been crushing on hardcore since he first began going to Bradford School for Advanced Artists. His name is Liam Payne. He was a cutie. He has amazing brown eyes that Zayn absolutely loves and his body isn’t too bad either. He also knew Liam was packing, seeing as he 'accidently' looked down one day when he showered in the same shower Liam was in. He definitely got an eyeful. Zayn is a virgin, so if he was to have sex with Liam he would fucking die because when has a virgin ever had to deal with a 10incher?

''Hey Malik, how’s it going?'' Liam asked as Zayn walked past him.

''Good, thanks for asking.'' Zayn answered, hoping his voice wasn't an octave too high. That usually happened when he got nervous; his voice would go to the highest pitch and get rather squeaky.

His dad knew he was gay. When he was 8, he came home one day talking about a new friend he made. His name was Raymond. He would talk about how cute he was and that set something off in Zayn’s father. He didn't have a problem with his son liking guys; he supported him. He never felt ashamed, always proud that Zayn was being himself.

Zayn had his first boyfriend when he was 15, around the time his hand tremors were at their worst. He supported him and was always there when Zayn needed him. He never judged him, even when he pushed Zayn to keep drawing. Zayn wanted to give up around the time his tremors got to being painful but no, he didn't stop. His boyfriend screamed at him during fights that he 'NEEDED TO KEEP ON GOING TO NEVER GIVE UP YOUR A FUCKING GREAT ARTIST AND ANYBODY WHO IS GREAT AT ANYTHING NEVER LETS THINGS GET IN THEIR WAY NEVER LETS THOSE THINGS PUT THEM DOWN BUT INSTEAD PUSHING THEM TO THE SIDE NOT IGNORING THEM BUT NOT LETTING THEM DOMINATE AND RUIN WAT IS MOST IMPRTANT TO YOU!''

His name is Trent. They eventually broke up, agreeing that they didn't have strong enough feelings for each other. To this very day, Trent is one of his very best friends and one of the many things that motivate him to keep being strong and never give up.

As he was walking down the street to his house, which is located a couple miles away from school, his phone began to ring. Fishing it out of his pocket, he looked at the screen, seeing his dad’s number. ''Hello, what’s up dad?''

''Uhh son, I'm not gonna be home for a while. Do you have your key?''

''Of course. So I guess I’ll just let myself in.''

''Alright son, don’t forget to set the alarm before you go to bed ok?''

''Damn you’re going to be out that long dad, what are you doing?''

''Hanging out with some friends.''

''Ok well, see you in the morning dad.''

''Alright kiddo bye.''

''Bye.'' He sighed. Every time his dad was going to be out that late with some friends, he was going to get drunk. Zayn actually liked it when his dad was drunk, he was very funny and does things he would never do sober.

Zayn decided to take the bus tonight, given that fact that it takes a couple hours to get home on foot and he never liked to walk home when it was late. It also saved tons of time, seeing as it only took 30 to 45 minutes to get home when he rode the bus.

As he sat down on the bus bench, waiting, he noticed a crowd of guys surrounding a boy not much older than himself; at least 16. From the way the guys were looking at him and touching him, and the visible bruises he has on his hip when his shirt rode up his body, it didn't take much to guess he is a prostitute. Zayn guessed that most of his clients were rough but damn, they definitely did get their money’s worth. The boy was seriously handsome. He had bright blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, and braces? Zayn wondered how he gave head without causing serious injuries to someone’s dick.

He decided to get up, walk over to the boy, and ask if he wanted to come home with him. He felt the need to protect the boy from anything that meant any harm would come to him.

As he approached the blonde boy, he got dirty looks from the other guys.

One of them got in his face, looking at him like he just kicked his puppy or something. ''You'll have to wait your turn like everyone else.'' The man said.

That pissed Zayn off. Last time he checked, the prostitute had the choice of who they wanted to go with. He told the stranger this, which only angered him further. He pushed past the man, rushing to the boy, wanting to hurry up, and take him home. Since his dad was going to be out literally all night it should be no problem to take him home without his dad asking why he was bringing a stranger home in the middle of the night.

He pushed the rest of the boys out of the way until he stood in front of the boy, causing the rest of the guys to scatter. If you asked Zayn, they looked like a bunch of vultures looking for their next meal.

''How much?'' the boy asked as soon as the other guys dispersed. When Zayn didn't answer right away he kept asking questions. ''You want a full night or half night?'' Zayn just stood there not knowing what to say or how to say it, so he kept going. ''Half nights aren’t as expensive as full nights, if you’re looking to spend less.'' The boy explained.

''Umm, how much for a full night?'' Zayn asked. He felt silly asking. No matter how much it was, he could definitely cover it. His dad always had thousands of dollars hidden around the house in case of a break in.

''$70,000,'' the boy said, looking Zayn over, wondering if he would rather do a half night.

''Ok come on.'' Zayn said, taking the boys hand and leading him to the bus bench.

''What, a big rich boy like you don’t have a sports car?'' The boy asked.

''No, I'm trying not to be the typical spoiled brat that some people make me out to be.'' Zayn said taking his hand again as the bus pulled up to the street in front of the bench. ''So how old are you, huh?'' Zayn asked, making sure he’s not screwing a minor.

He can’t believe that he’s going to lose his virginity to a prostitute.

''18, my name is Niall.'' Niall; wow what a cute name.


	2. Chapter 2

The whole bus ride back, all Niall could think about was ‘why would someone so gorgeous want to be with me? A whore…’ "So, umm, what's your name love? You haven't told me yet."

Niall never asks his client’s name; at least not after what happened with his last client. Some ‘I love yous’ were exchanged. Niall even stopped selling himself for money. But soon after, he found out he was being cheated on. He was heartbroken to say the least. He truly thought he was finally loved by someone.

His parents NEVER loved him; they proved that when they gave him up for adoption when he was ten. Even as a child he realized he wasn't loved, but there was nothing that could be done.

On his 15th birthday he told his foster parents that he was kind of interested in trying to find his birth parents. He found them the next year he was in the grocery store picking up a few things for dinner that night. That's when he saw her standing in the cereal aisle, picking out a box for the little boy she had with her. He was about the same age he was when she gave him up.

More like she gave up on him.

Ever since then, he's hated her. That's why he does what he does; he figures if his mom can't love him then someone will. He thought Jarrod did but he didn't, he was just like the rest of the men he sleeps with.

He won't make that mistake EVER again, he's just one of those people that can't and won't find love. He blames his mom but he doesn't; you can't help but love the person who carried you inside of their stomach for nine months even if you can't help but resent them. There will always be a piece of love stored away somewhere, no matter how much you might think you hate the people who are supposed to love you.

"Oh sorry, that's right I didn't tell you my name. My name's Zayn, spoiled rich boy. Or at least that's what people prefer to call me." Zayn said, flailing his arms around gesturing.

"I don't really seem to get that vibe from you like I was expecting when I saw you."

Laughing, Zayn says, “that's what everyone tells me. I just figure that's just because my dad's loaded. Doesn't mean I don't have to work for things I want in life, though." He looks at Niall. "What about you? Do you have any goals? Any aspirations?"

"Yes I do actually, I'm currently going to Uni, majoring in English. I'm an aspiring writer... Why do you want to know so much about me? It's not like we'll ever see each other again." Niall said lying to himself about the last part. He wants to see Zayn again every day.

He's doing it again getting attached.

But this time be doesn't care. "Or maybe I will. Who knows what the future holds right?" Niall said with a smile.

Damn he's got a cute smile Zayn thought, smiling back. "Yeah, who knows."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to update for those of you who read my bullshit lol I've been in rehab for a couple months for personal reasons so i haven't really been able to write.  
> This is just absolutely terrible but I'm just trying to get used to writing again so i had to write something.  
> If you do read my stuff i just want to say thanks.(:  
> FEED BACK IS ALWAYS WELCOME!!!  
> sorry for the length of the chapter the next one will most likely be longer


	3. Chapter 3

As the bus pulled up to the street Zayn lived on, he and Niall got off and started walking down the street.  
''Sorry about the walking, my house isn't too far away, though. '' Zayn said as he took Niall’s hand in his.  
''Why are you holding my hand?''  
''Oh, umm, despite how nice this neighborhood looks, it gets very violent at night.''  
''How ironic. Usually when people move to a rich neighborhood, they're calm.''  
''Yeah, that’s what I thought until I moved here.'' Zayn said, laughing, looking at Niall and wondering why he does what he does.  
Eventually Zayn’s curiosity got the better of him and he asked, ''Why do you do this?''  
Niall immediately froze. ''Uhh, does it matter?''  
''Is it because you can’t pay for Uni? I mean I could-''  
''Help?” Niall interrupted. “Yeah sure, help the hopeless whore pay for Uni.''  
''You're not a whore, you’re-''  
''A slut? Prostitute?'' Niall interrupted again.  
Zayn was shocked to hear Niall talk about himself this way. ''Niall, you're none of those things so please just shut up and stop talking about yourself like this.''  
''Zayn you don’t know anything about me. Why are you making this personal?'' Niall asks.  
Zayn just wanted to grab Niall by his face and kiss the frown off it. So he does.  
At first Niall’s unresponsive, but after a while he relaxes into it.  
''Please let me help you. You don’t belong on the street with those guys.'' Zayn said.  
''How am I going to support myself? Make money? And exactly how are you to help me?''  
''My dad has connections. Is there anything your good at; any specialties?'' Zayn asked. He just wants Niall off the streets and somewhere he knows is safe.  
''Umm besides the fact that I'm an English major, umm, I'm good with cars.''  
‘He would look hot in grease and oil,’ Zayn thought. ''That's great! I used to work at a mechanic shop in town called Lou Mechanics. The manager and I were pretty close when I worked there. I'm sure if i talked to him, we could work something out.''  
‘He feels sorry for me, that's the only reason why he’s doing this,’ Niall thought. ''Why aren't we at your house yet? We've been walking forever.''  
''We're here.'' Zayn said. ''Actually, we've been here for the past five minutes.''  
“Nice flat. Shit it’s huge!'' Laughing, Zayn took out his keys and opened the door.  
What Niall saw next amazed the shit out of him. The floor is granite and a bright white, the stairs spiral, and black the kitchen was fucking huge. ‘Probably IKEA,’ Niall thought, as he chuckled. The counter tops where a stunning grey and granite as well. The cabinets looked like they were made from an almost clay material.  
The house was fucking amazing!  
''Your house is fucking ama-'' Niall stopped, turning around and realizing Zayn took off. He just shrugs his shoulders and walks to the living room with, of course, a flat screen telly and a fucking Louis B. couch.  
There are also a few pictures on the wall. Not his family, but fucking Albert Einstein and, what turns out to be, Robert Frost.  
''Well shit.'' Niall says, laughing a little. Robert Frost is his favorite poet, along with Edger Allen Poe. Zayn doesn't really look like he would be interested in poetry but Niall knows now that looks can be deceiving.  
As he turns around to face the living room, he sees a body on the couch. ''Fucker what the fuck? I didn't come back home with you to watch you sleep, you bastard! Wake up and get your dick in my ass.''  
When he gets no response, Niall decides to slap the sleeping figure in the face, waking him up.  
''What the fuck!?'' Zayn yells. Wait, that’s not Zayn.  
''Who the fuck are you?'' The Zayn look alike asks. ''Actually, you know what, who gives a fuck.'' He says as he starts to walk over to Niall, invading his personal space by backing him up against the wall leaning against Niall he says, ''I'd love to fuck you.  
Don’t worry, I'll be as rough as possible. You look like you like it rough. Do you?''  
Niall’s heart is racing and all the while he’s thinking, ‘where the fuck is Zayn?’  
As if on cue, he sees Zayn come from the hallway. As soon as he spots them, the anger that spreads through him is evident. The Zayn look alike now has his mouth on Niall’s neck, kissing and biting it.  
''Dad, what the fuck are you doing!?'' Zayn yells as he approaches them, tearing his dad away from Niall, practically throwing him to the other side of the room.  
As he holds Niall against him, Niall explains. ''I thought he was you asleep on the couch so I woke him up.''  
''Dad I thought you said you were going to be gone till morning'' Zayn said, confused on how he was going to explain Niall’s presence. ''Uhh, Niall’s an English major at Uni and I just invited him over to hang out.'' Zayn said, hoping his dad would buy it.  
But boy was he wrong.  
“I know you’re lying son. For one, you don’t even go to Uni, and two, I know Niall’s a prostitute.''  
Zayn went wide eyed at that statement. ''How do you know, dad?'' Niall doesn't even dress like a prostitute!  
Laughing, his father said, ''Because I fucked him son.''  
''Dad what the fuck!?'' Zayn yelled.  
''Uh, maybe I should go,'' Niall said, feeling a bit awkward.  
He was about to open the door when a hand landed on his. ''You’re not leaving. I paid for a full night and we still have some things to talk about.'' Zayn said, as he led Niall upstairs to his room.  
As Zayn opened the door, Niall had so much going through his head. ''Well here we are; my room. I know it's not as badass as the rest of the house, but it's me.'' Zayn said, entering the room with Niall following behind him.  
He had to agree that his room wasn't as impressive as the rest of the house. In it was a simple computer desk with a reading lamp and next to it was a Robert Frost poem book. It seems like, although not much, they share some common interests.  
He laughed a little, catching Zayn’s attention.  
''What’s so funny?'' Zayn asked, as he sat down on his bed, which was even funnier than anything. It's so small he doesn't even understand how Zayn can even fit in that thing.  
He doesn't know how he’s going to fit on it.  
''Uh nothing, it’s just you, uh- you read Robert Frost? He’s like my favorite poet ever.'' Niall said, finally breaking the silence.  
He was curious about the rest of the room so he decided to explore. First, he went to the closet, which was interesting because there were no clothes. In it, there was poetry books stacked from top to bottom and on the floor next to a stack of books were reading glasses.  
‘He'd look so cute in those,’ Niall thought with a smile.  
Next was the bathroom, which was in his room. It was actually the most ordinary bathroom ever. It had a tub and a shower, along with a white sink. Everything Zayn possessed was just so… normal. Ordinary.  
Niall couldn't find a word for it but Zayn really isn't the stuck up rich boy that people think he is.  
“So um, I never got the chance to ask you, um, your dad said you don’t go to Uni. So, uh, where do you go? Unless you’re a drop out?'' Niall asked, wanting to know what Zayn planned to do with his life.  
''No I'm not a drop out, I got to an advanced arts school.'' Zayn explained.  
''Uh so, you draw like people?'' Niall asked curiously. ''Can you draw me? Or are your art skills not that advanced, playboy?'' Niall asked, laughing as Zayn surged forward, knocking Niall to the ground and making him bump his head against his desk chair. Both boys giggled.  
When they stopped giggling, Zayn looked at Niall for a second- like really looked into his beautiful icy blue eyes- and then kissed him for the second time that night.  
Except this kiss was a little more heated than the last, making Niall moan into his mouth as Zayn starts to kiss and bite on Niall’s neck. He parts his legs for Zayn to slot in between.  
''I'm supposed to be the one pleasing you,'' Niall said confused as to why Zayn was pleasing him. This is not how it goes. He’s supposed to either get fucked or give a blow job.  
''Well I figured maybe you deserve to be the one who’s being pleased for a change.'' Zayn said as he trails down Niall’s body, kissing his stomach, navel, and then finally getting down to his hips, unbuttoning his pants, and pulling them off along with his boxers, and exposing his hard one to the cool air of the room.  
Niall’s actually pretty big and thick.  
''Uh, are you going to, um'' Niall asked, snapping Zayn out of his thoughts and pointing to his hard cock. Looking up at Niall Zayn says, ''Actually I want you to try something.'' Noticing the startled look on Niall’s face, he adds, ''Nothing kinky or anything. I just want to see if you can cum without touching yourself.''  
''I don’t think that’s possible-''  
Interrupting him, Zayn said, “I've done it. No physical stimulation; just mental.''  
''So all I have to do is think about something sexual and I'll cum?'' Niall asked, confused. ‘If Zayn could really do this then he's a fucking god,’ Niall thought, as he kicked his pants and boxers to the side and lay flat on the floor spread out. ''Just tell me when.'' He said, putting his hands behind his head.  
''Now,” Zayn commanded.  
As Niall closed his eyes, he thought about Zayn fucking him hard and relentlessly, making his dick twitch and imagining how good he'd taste in his mouth. Niall really wants to blow Zayn, so fucking bad he’s already panting and moaning. He really can’t believe he’s about to cum just thinking about taking Zayn’s cock.  
''Oh fuck,'' Niall groaned as he came, cum dripping down his dick, collecting the remaining cum. Zayn watched as he put his finger in his hole, slicking himself with his cum.  
''Um, aren't you sensitive?''  
''Yeah but it feels fucking great.'' Niall said, taking his finger out of his ass. ''Have you ever tried that before? Fingering yourself?''  
''Uh, well yeah, once when I was fifteen. I was curious so I touched myself down there.'' Zayn said shyly.  
Laughing, Niall said, ''Aw, you’re shy.''  
Zayn picked his pants up from the floor and slipped them on. ''I may be shy about sexual things but I am not shy about my intelligence,'' Zayn said in a ‘fuck you’ tone.  
‘Wow, getting attitude already. He thinks he’s so smart- smarter than me. OH HELL NO!’ Niall thought, giving Zayn a ‘fuck off’ look.  
''But it seems that you are.''  
''It's not that I'm shy about my intelligence; it's just that when I do show people how smart I am they usually feel dumb. So I just keep my mouth shut.''  
''Well, I can guarantee you will not make me feel stupid. And obviously, I just so happen to know ANYTHING and EVERYTHING about Robert Frost.'' Zayn said, smiling at the offended look on Niall’s face.  
''Fuck you cunt, you do not!'' Niall said, appalled that Zayn would think he knows more about Robert Frost than him.  
''I can prove I do.'' Zayn said, pulling out his Robert Frost poem book. “But how about you? Can you prove you know more Niall?''  
Laughing, Niall says, ''Bring it on, playboy.''  
Smirking, Zayn starts reading a poem from the book.  
''They leave us so to the way we took,  
as two in whom they were proved mistaken,  
that we sit sometimes in the wayside hook,  
with mischievous, vagrant, seraphic look,  
and try if we cannot feel forsaken''  
As soon as Zayn was done reading, Niall started to give an explanation without Zayn asking for one.  
''The Derry farm had been given to Frost on such terms that he was committed to it. For years- ten -passed and Frost, now thrity-five, was able to sell his new Hampshire property with the money plus the little he had from teaching at Pinkerton Academy in Derry Village. Frost uprooted himself and his family and sailed for England.  
“Living abroad was.... cheap- this was in 1912 -and Mrs. Frost wanted, as she said, ''to live under thatch''. The Frosts found a home in Beaconsfield, a little town in rural Bucking Hampshirme. Although England was in the throes of a literary revival and Georgian Poetry was the center of a movement, the Frosts were untouched by what was going on. They went nowhere except for occasional visits to London and saw no one until almost a year had passed.  
Then they tried farming again, this time in Glov Cestershire, where their near neighbors were the poet-dramatist Lascelles Abercrombie and the poet Willfred Wilson Gibson.  
One evening, in 1913, Frost sat before an open fire shuffling through poems he had written, only a few of which had been reprinted in magazines. In his hand was the work of twenty years.  
''It came to me that maybe someone would publish a few of these poems in a book. It really hadn't ever occurred to me, before that, this might be how Frost remembered that Helley’s publisher had been David Nutt. David Nutt was dead, but his widow was carrying on the publishing business, and to Mrs. Nutt he went.  
“Mrs.Nutt read the work of the unknown poet and decided to publish his book. It was as simple as that. Too simple? Perhaps- no influential friends; no publicity; nothing to win favor except the poetry- but young authors, impatient for publication, should remember that Frost had to wait more than twenty years from the time of his first poem, in a high school magazine, to the time of his first book. When the volume appeared, the poet was thirty-eight years old.'' Niall said, explaining the poem and completely baffling Zayn, if the look on his face was any indication that he was amazed.  
Blushing, Zayn says, ''You know you could have just said it was about a farmer getting his first poem ever published and about his family traveling.''  
Smiling and shaking his head, Niall says, ''Well yes, I could have, but the sweet and short method makes people look stupid and... that you are not.''  
Laughing, Zayn asked, ''Should I feel insulted?”  
Walking to Zayn, Niall replies, ''Uh no. But, like seriously, what did you expect from an ENGLISH MAJOR!?'' Niall said, enunciating the last two words. He grabbed Zayn’s hands, placing them on his hips, and getting closer and closer to his face until their lips touch soon again.  
It starts of as simple kiss but turns into something passionate- with tongues and moans and a little bit of ass grabbing, which made Niall giggle.  
Breaking the kiss, Zayn asks, ''What’s so funny?''  
''Nothing, it’s just that, uh, you grabbed my ass.'' Niall said, snickering while trying to keep a cool face. But like seriously, who ass grabs anymore?  
''Why’s that so funny though?'' Zayn, asks grabbing Niall’s ass again, and making him laugh some more.  
''It just makes me laugh.'' Niall explains through his giggle fit.  
''Oh my god, you've got a ticklish ass! Oh my-'' now it was Zayn’s turn to laugh.  
''Shut the fuck up!'' Niall said, hitting Zayn.  
''Well, I guess we should be getting to-'' Zayn tried saying but couldn't even finish his sentence, as he was still laughing about Niall’s ticklish ass.  
''It's not that funny, ya cunt!'' Niall said.

TO BE CONTINUED?!...........................idk how to do cliff hangers T_T

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this is complete shit but for those of you that do read this hope you like it!:)  
> I LOOK FORWARD TO COMMENTS AND KUDOS!!!

**Author's Note:**

> This first chapter was basically just insite on Zayns life and how he lives xx


End file.
